


Nut

by bohemiantea



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Budding Love, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Unrequited Love, Varric Tethras' Nicknames, Wicked Grace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bohemiantea/pseuds/bohemiantea
Summary: Your Dalish Inquisitor is a good-natured cipher. So get her drunk and playing cards.





	

They all agreed: Varric’s nickname for the Inquisitor, Nut, was the most apt name he’d ever given. As fond as each of them were of her, in their own ways, none of them were entirely sure if they really knew her. Even those who she had obviously grown close to didn’t know much about her life before the Conclave. She could smile and flirt at Dorian, hit Iron Bull and share drinks with the Chargers, and even tease Cassandra about her now not-so-secret love of Varric’s books. She did not lack in sharing camaraderie, but sharing herself was quite another matter.

Leliana knew facts, such as Lavellan’s clan now in Wycombe, or knowing when and whom the Inquisitor visited (everyone, apparently, and not given to much sleep, given reports of seeing her prowling battlements and rooftops, or the Chantry gardens, at night). They all knew she was not Andrastian, though she tolerated belief that she was the Herald because she understood people’s need to believe – that much she had made abundantly clear to Mother Giselle, Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra.  
  
Dorian once chanced to overhear her arguing with Solas about the Dalish people. He shared this, he said, not to gossip, but to offer one more piece of her puzzle: she loved her people deeply, and it came through in clear, wounded tones as she defended them to the apostate mage’s derision. A derision that changed to contrition as **_she_** , the wounded party, offered apology for them. It had shocked Dorian to the core, he said. Knowing his countrymen’s excesses, he had never felt the need to apologize for Tevinter until that moment. And did, after the Inquisitor spoke with him about his own society. He said she had smiled at him and accepted it, but he hadn’t been sure if she believed it.  
  
“So that’s why you keep hanging around her, Sparkler. You just can’t stop apologizing, can you?” Varric said.  
  
“And what if I do? Afraid I’ll corrupt the poor thing? You’d have to get past her shell, first, though I must admit it’s become a more fashionable and droll shell,” the Tevinter mage replied tartly.

Bull grunted in agreement and reminded them of Halamshiral.  
  
“Not just that, but **tricky**. You all expected her to pick the Empress, or Gaspard, or even Briala. The whole court expected that, and that’s why she beat you all at the Game.” He paused. “Kicking the Harlequin out of a window was damn hot, too, but I’m pretty sure she just found it expedient.”

Cassandra nodded at this. It was one of the Inquisitor’s traits she admired, though it was difficult to know when she might apply that expediency. She had been prepared for the Inquisitor to simply thwart Celene’s assassination and take them back to Skyhold. She had not expected the elf to dive into the web of intrigue and the Orlesian distaste for her kind as if it were a puzzle to solve.

“That’s it: expectation. She knows we all expect something from her, and that’s what she gives,” Varric pointed out.

“Yes, of course!” Josephine said, seizing upon it. All the moves and countermoves of the nobility she had shared with the Inquisitor hadn’t moved her until Josephine couched them in terms of their true wants, aided with secrets Leliana divulged.

“He tells her he never expected, and she believes him, seeing him sweating, shaking and shamed, shy sentiment hiding, haunted, hopeful,” Cole murmurs from his perch at Varric’s elbow.  
  
“What, **_Curly_**?”  
  
“Yes. She blazes bright, bleeding bound and abated. I can’t see more. She won’t let me,” the boy says plaintively. He does not add that a spark of this feeling once belonged to Solas, because it would not help. She has a different feeling for him now, and he feels the Inquisitor’s feeling about Solas closed upon itself, frightened and frightening, needful and pushing away all at once. It is sharp and hungry where it should be soft and soothing, like it is with Cullen. Cullen will help her share herself with the others, and that is what they want.

“So bring him to next week’s game,” Blackwall offers. He knows the Commander still doesn’t quite trust him, knowing that he is Thom Ranier and what he did, but the Inquisitor seems to and her faith in him still shakes him. If she and the Commander had some mutual feeling…  
  
“Cullen? Play Wicked Grace? You’re kidding me,” Varric says, but the wheels are already turning.  
  
“Really, Varric, I told you about our game of chess. She sat right down and beat him at several games. They went for **hours** ,” Dorian couldn’t help adding with a wink.  
  
“Oh Dorian, don’t be disgusting,” Cassandra sighed, but the mage only chuckled. They both knew she adored the idea of their Inquisitor romancing the Templar. And now Varric knew as well, and filed away several ideas for the next “Swords and Shields.”  
  
“Pfft. You think that’s disgustin’, her Ladyship Elfybits knocked his knickers on his desk.” Sera had just dropped down, quite literally, with a bottle of a Warden vintage in her hand. “Found that out with pranks.”  
  
“His… oh,” Josephine said, blushing. No one but Cole saw her glance at Blackwall.  
  
Iron Bull chuckled appreciatively, rumbling, “Jealous?” at Sera, while Dorian smirked at Cassandra as if to say, “See?”  
  
“I did not need that visual,” Varric sighed.  
  
“What? Me either!” Sera said, scowling. “Look. Get her to the game, right? I bring the drinks, she gets knackered and spills her guts. Done.”  
  
“I saw them dancing at Halamshiral. It’s not a bad idea,” Leliana said, smiling. “Bring both to the game. Tell Cullen that you are short of a player. I will make sure that there are less things on his… desk… so that he will come play.”  
  
“Leliana!”  
  
“Josie!” Leliana mocked. She waved a gloved hand at the group. “You will need to get moving quickly. She will be finishing a ‘discussion’ with Morrigan, Solas, and Vivienne very soon. It has been quite spirited.”

“I can imagine,” Varric said, and shook his head. “I’ll take care of it. The rest of you make sure Curly has a chair and we have drinks that won’t turn us into darkspawn.” Sera stuck out her tongue. “Or give us chest hair. I have plenty,” he said pointedly at Bull’s, “Aww.”

“Wicked Grace!” Josephine clapped, delighted. “I have not played in such a long time. I will need to retrieve some money. I have so little at hand.”

“Who doesn’t keep their money on- ow! Right. Get it,” Sera said, rubbing her ribs where Bull had poked them. She uncorked her bottle and took a long and presumably soothing pull from it, and giggled.

“Well. I have a feeling we might enjoy getting our little Nut to crack,” Dorian said, eyeing Sera and then Iron Bull. The qunari shrugged and grinned. He had already discreetly attempted his own shot back at Haven, offering to “pop her cork.” She had just smiled and knocked him on his ass. He got the hint and flirted at Cassandra instead. Bull was glad to find that someone had gotten under her armor.

“Don’t feel right, prying at her after what she’s done for us.” Blackwall had turned thoughtful.

Cassandra spoke gently. “It’s not an interrogation. Don’t think of it that way. She is our friend.”

Varric snorted as he eased himself from his chair. “Glad we’re friends now,” and wandered out of the tavern.

He truly was glad. They all were. But he was never going to call the Inquisitor “Nut” to her face. She had that same streak of slight madness that Hawke had, and a gigantic knack for getting into a lot of weird shit, and he’d learned a healthy appreciation for not provoking it whenever possible. He wasn’t sure that giving her a nickname would qualify as provoking, but he wasn’t going to take that chance, either.

Varric could dimly hear raised voices from the vicinity of the rotunda and winced. No way was he getting in between a bunch of mages. He was going stay right here by the fireplace and wait for her to come out. He just hoped Nut would come out this way, instead of taking the walkway to Cullen’s office, if the others were right.

Soon the door to rotunda flew open and Morrigan stalked out. He expected her to make her way to the gardens, but she turned toward the undercroft instead. Interesting.

Vivienne also emerged, head high, and made her way toward her balcony. She murmured a cool, “Varric,” as she swept past. He waited until she couldn’t see him to shiver.

Another moment passed, and then another. He began to worry that Nut really had gone to Cullen’s office when she finally exited as well. Her expression was as resolute, friendly, and otherwise unreadable as ever. Oh boy. She might be trouble at Wicked Grace. And he had just started making a little money off of Blackwall.  
  
“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you…”


End file.
